


The Boy Who Leapt Through Time

by MrRee



Category: Persona 4
Genre: M/M, Time Travel AU, long fic alert, so many references to so many different things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrRee/pseuds/MrRee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Yosuke learns he can manipulate time, for better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy Who Leapt Through Time

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by tumblr user bittesehr's time travel AU comic, so this is dedicated to them.

_What does it take?_

_When will it stop?_

*

Time, Yosuke realized one lazy Saturday afternoon while tuning out Kashiwagi rambling about something no one gave a damn about, was a made up concept. Did anything else in the world, other than humans, even follow the bizarre concept of “one sunrise starts ‘day’ and one sunset starts ‘night?’” How did that count as some form of measurement? Nothing else in the universe, not even stars or things much larger than himself, bothered to create such a system. They just _existed._ So, following that string of logic, he could, hypothetically, deem that time does not actually exist, and, therefore, nothing was stopping him from walking out of the boring class for video games.

But he doubted his teacher would take that as a legitimate excuse, and he definitely did _not_ want to experience another hellish detention. Sighing, he settled for staring at the back of Souji’s head. Yosuke could be doing something exciting, like saving that detective’s life, but Souji, ever responsible Souji, always insisted on going into the TV world _after_ school.

“Hanamura!” Kashiwagi waggled her eyebrows as a smirk danced on her lips. Yosuke tried to not appear trapped, but swallowed hard anyway. “Since you seem so enthralled, why don’t _you_ tell me the answer, hm?”

The class giggled, and Souji turned his head slightly as he muttered, “Omega three.”

Of course Souji knew the answer to such an obscure question that Yosuke did not even hear. Freed from Kashiwagi’s clutches after weakly stuttering out the answer, Yosuke slumped in his seat with an appreciative smile in Souji’s direction. Instead of daydreaming, he pretended to write notes as his teacher rambled on.

In the margins, he scribbled, _“Time does not exist,”_ before doodling a never-ending line of meaningless circles.

Which was, he noticed in retrospect, the start of everything.

*

_How many iterations will it take?_

_How many rehearsals?_

*

The first time he summoned his Persona that day, something felt _different._ The atmosphere around him stilled, and the Shadow, a large mecha with a hefty sword (that, much to everyone’s dismay, cast a powerful charge of energy to prepare itself for an attack), stopped mid-swing. In fact, Chie, who was bouncing from foot-to-foot, stopped in mid-air, and Teddie, who was about to shout something, had his mouth open, but no sound was coming out. Souji, staring up at the blade coming in his direction, had his face frozen with furrowed eyebrows and wide eyes. At first, the thought that time froze did not register as Yosuke moved to take Souji’s place. It was all of three seconds, more than enough to run over to take the blow, and the air, once stilled, started up again, and he felt the sword embed itself in his shoulder.

“—nsei—!” Teddie finished, ready to move, but stopped once he noticed something was different. _“Yosuke?”_

Souji, also puzzled, managed to stand after being shoved, and hurried over to the tottering Yosuke. “Are you okay?”

“Compared to a Ziodyne? This is nothing.” It was a total lie— _how the hell did his arm not come off?_ \--but the look of relief on Souji’s face was worth it. Chie destroyed the mecha shortly thereafter with a sharp kick, Teddie cast a greatly-needed healing spell on Yosuke’s shoulder, and they were on their way once more to save Naoto.

“How did you even _do_ that?” Chie asked after an unusually long period of silence.

“Huh?” Yosuke pulled off his headphones. “What’d you say?”

“I mean,” she continued, “you literally just _vanished_ and reappeared in the nick of time.”

“Yeah!” Teddie chimed in, nodding vigorously. “I _bearly_ even saw you move, and you were just there in front of Sensei! It was amazing how fast you moved, Yosuke!”

“I didn’t do anything different, though,” he replied, but the look on everyone’s faces told him that he did. “I didn’t. I just, I don’t know, it just sort of happened?”

 _“Right,”_ Chie said, rolling her eyes. “Were it anyone else, I’d chalk it up to be talent, but this is you, Yosuke—king of falling on his butt and almost dropping a kunai on his foot. Your speed has so many short-comings, but that? That wasn’t even your speed. That was just...” She wrinkled her nose as she tried to think of a term. “...magical? I don’t even know. Help me out here, guys.”

Souji approached a large, mechanical door and frowned. “Let us discuss this later,” he said, glancing over the metal contraption box next to the door. He pulled down the lever. “No matter what it was, it saved me, so I am grateful, Hanamura. Please do not push yourself for my sake, though. Rise, is Shirogane-san behind this door?”

 _“Yeah, I definitely sense something going on behind that door,”_ Rise answered. _“Be careful, guys—I sense a ton of energy coming from here. This may be our toughest battle yet.”_

Yosuke put on his headphones and rolled his eyes. Rise had a tendency to exaggerate, and he doubted that Naoto would be any worse than Mitsuo’s Shadow, which nearly obliterated all of them. This, and the fights after, were going to be cakewalks compared to this. He followed the group inside, anticipating the same that happened to everyone else. But they would save Naoto—after all, they were practically invincible now.

*

_How many extensions?_

*

It happened on accident. Yosuke just happened to not pay attention long enough to hear the loud _crunch_ of someone’s bones snapping. Chie, currently the strongest of the party but controlled by Namatame, stared down at her feet with dulled-over eyes, uncaring of what just happened. Kanji was yelling something now, and Yosuke did not comprehend the scene before him—Chie’s cleats covered in blood, and Souji having numerous spike indents in his chest, with progressively swelling red dots marking where each one was. The Persona summoned flickered in and out of existence before breaking into a pixelated mess, and Yosuke felt his own skin prickle with adrenaline.

What just happened? Souji was falling. What just happened? Souji fell and hit the ground. What just happened? Souji lost his sword, his Persona, and his life.

Wait, what just _happened?_

“Senpai!” Kanji scrambled over to the fallen leader’s side, his shield thrown to the side as he tried to do something about the uncontrollable situation. Yosuke sputtered before feeling the air change once again as Namatame’s Shadow prepared for another attack. But the crackle of energy mattered as much as his math test at that moment as he stared at his partner. Were they not supposed to save Nanako? How was this going to help her?

“Senpai!” Kanji shouted again, and Chie, previously controlled, shook her head rapidly before blinking, confused. “Dammit! Yosuke-senpai, he ain’t movin’! He ain’t—”

Namatame’s Shadow was moving again, moving faster than Yosuke anticipated, and Chie got swatted across the arena, landing with a harsh _crunch._ She did not get back up. It was not her fault, not really, no, it was all that bastard Namatame’s doing, and now she, too, was as motionless as the air around Yosuke. Everything needed to stop. Yosuke needed to think, and he could not think, could not even _breathe,_ all he could do was scream bloody murder as rage clouded his somewhat shaky judgment and _lunged_ at Namatame as fast as he could, wanting him to bleed as much as Chie and Souji were, wanted him to—

*

_No save file._

_Save file is corrupted._

_Start new game?_

_> Yes >No_

*

He stared at his phone, which had the incorrect date displayed on the screen, and an eerily familiar text message from Chie demanding the return of her DVD. The alarm clock blared beside him, but he ignored it as he scrambled out of bed, fingers reaching for the handle of his closet, question on his lips. However, once he slid open the closet door, there was no Teddie to inquire what kind of prank was going on this time. Only a pile of worn clothes, some random boxes, and confusion greeted him. He took a step back and looked to his desk, where the case of “Trial of the Dragon” resided. Frantically, he opened the case—the DVD, as expected, was broken.

“What the hell?” Yosuke traced the large crack with his fingers and swallowed hard.

In a panic, he shoved the DVD into his bag, slammed his fist on the alarm to turn it off, changed into his uniform, and hurried to get to school on his _working_ bicycle. Last time he checked, he busted the chain so bad it refused to move. A sense of dread began gnawing at his stomach, and his fears were reconfirmed when the chain fell off the gears, making him temporarily distracted and causing him to crash into a pole.

Despite the severe pain, Yosuke caught a glimpse of silver in the corner of his eye, and immediately whirled around. Souji, with a confused look and an umbrella, glanced Yosuke over.

“Souji!” Yosuke hurried over to him with a forced smile. “Oh my god, Souji, I’m so glad that you’re here, there’s something _weird_ going on, and now I’m sure it’s not a dream, but did we... I mean, did, like, time reverse or something? ‘Cause I swear that I’m back in April, and—” He stopped. “Uh, partner? Why’re you giving me that look?”

Souji took a step back, eyes wide with alarm. “How do you know my name?”

“What do you mean, how do I know your name?” Yosuke frowned. “Listen, this isn’t funny! How come everything is the same as back then?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.” Souji took another step back as he edged his way towards the school gate. “Um, we are going to be late for class, so if you could stop freaking me out, that would be great. Thank you.”

“The hell are you talking about?! If anyone’s freaked out right now, it’s _me!”_

But Souji was no longer listening. He was already on the school grounds, walking quickly away from Yosuke. This was insane. It was like he got transported back in time somehow.

He blinked.

There was no way in _hell_ that was possible.

Still, when he arrived to class, Chie (perfectly healthy and alive) said, “Hey, I hear we’re getting a transfer student from the city! Just like you, huh, Yosuke?”

*

_… … ...NO DATA|_

*

The first few times were the hardest, especially when Yosuke missed his window of opportunity to save Saki-senpai. He was too dazed and confused to do anything with what he had, and when she turned up dead, he desperately wished for another chance. When he got Jiraiya, when they went to save Yukiko, when they were fighting against Chie’s Shadow, his _Sukukaja_ enabled him to tear through the space-time continuum, only for him to end up back to the day of Saki’s body being discovered. Try as he did, as he began to get a handle of leaping through time, he could no longer access April 11th. He would repeat the first couple of weeks several times just to save her, only to end up frustrated and teary-eyed each time he had to go to the principal’s address.

She was gone, permanently.

He stopped trying after the eleventh attempt. 

*

_Tell me, give me something, anything_

_Tell me what should I do, what should I say_

_Captain, oh, captain,_

_Please, please, please please pleasepleaseplease_

*

There was something wrong with him, and he knew it when he had the same camping trip for the sixth time. Kanji had just burst from the tent, as Yosuke expected, and now it was just himself and Souji. The lamp continued to flicker, casting shadows behind the lump where the rock resided, and where the slump of the hill was located. With a sigh, Souji zipped the tent’s entrance shut before sitting back down with a shake of his head.

“You really should not provoke him like that,” he said as he smoothed out his sleeping bag. “It is not like he was doing anything to us, you know. Even if he is like that, I do not think you have to worry—he seemed vastly more interested in that strange detective.”

 _Who’s actually a she,_ Yosuke thought, but managed to bite down on his tongue. Last time he gave out spoilers, it ended in disastrous and bloody consequences. He winced at the memory of the blood covering the club’s pink floor after he gave out a warning that their attacks would stop working after a while. Apparently Rise’s Shadow did not take too kindly to exposition, so she obliterated Yukiko and Souji in one shot with a powerful ice spell.

The girls came in moments later, also as expected, and hogged up more than half the space of the tent, pushing Souji and Yosuke together on the lesser half. Of course, Yosuke whined and complained to deaf ears, but it was more for acting’s sake. After sleeping by Souji’s side five times prior, Yosuke had gotten used to it, and last time he even _welcomed_ it. Huffing, he pulled up the thin blanket and shot an apologetic smile at Souji. Someone like him deserved so much better.

“Cold?” he asked, and Souji gave a hesitant nod. Yosuke glanced at his own blanket before handing it over to his confused friend. “Here. Take mine—I don’t think I can sleep, anyways. My stomach is gnawing itself to _pieces_ from that Mystery Food X.”

“Are you sure?” Souji already pulled up the other blanket, hiding his bare feet from the spring chill. Yosuke nodded.

“Of course I am. What else are partners for?”

Souji bit his bottom lip. “Are you sure you do not just want to share?”

The immediate answer was a _yes,_ but instead of saying that, Yosuke’s answer stopped on the tip of his tongue, with his mouth parted, ready to enthusiastically accept the offer. Something churned in his stomach, and his tongue suddenly felt dry as he broke out into a cold sweat, the grin slipping from his face with the sudden, dawning realization of what was probably the _stupidest_ thing that could have ever happened to him.

Not only was it the stupidest thing, but it was _impossible._

“Hanamura?” Souji’s eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted slightly. “Is something wrong?”

“Wha—oh, uh.” Yosuke coughed to clear his throat before laughing sheepishly. “No, I’m, uh, I’m good, just... Just go to bed, partner. I’m gonna turn off the lamp before King Moron comes stumbling back in this direction, asking why we’re still up. G’night!”

“Okay...” Souji still appeared uncertain. “Good night.”

Yosuke flicked off the lamp and purposefully put his back to Souji and stared intently at the makeshift wall made of bags and pillows. He tried to not bite his knuckles so hard that it broke the skin, but he did bite hard enough to leave marks on his skin that were visible the next morning when dawn broke the horizon. He could not remember the last time he was awake so long that he saw dawn, but that did not matter as much as the urge to run out of the tent screaming, much like Kanji did.

The only thing stopping him were fingers innocently and unknowingly pressing up against his back.

There was no way in _hell._

He managed to keep those emotions down until they faced Mitsuo’s Shadow, who managed to land a fatal critical hit on Souji, which was when Yosuke had to admit he perhaps _maybe_ gave more shits about Souji than he would like to admit.

Too bad feelings could not bring back the dead.

*

_Please, guide me and show me the way_

*

Keeping up the act of pretending to know absolutely nothing began to wear him out. Even though he did the same things at least thirty times now, he still had no idea who the killer was, and began to harbor doubts that it was even Namatame. It was beyond frustrating, and going through each dungeon, over and over again, hearing the same speeches from the Shadows of everyone in the band of detectives, just added to his agitation. It also did not help that he could no longer seem to keep a grasp of what happened when, which pissed him off more than anything, seeing as how it was now late October. If he dared to say anything to Souji about Nanako’s potential kidnapping, however, it would destroy the group. Again.

If Yosuke tried to interfere with fate, fate interfered with their chances of living.

 _Why?_ It was the same question he asked every morning. _Why? Why this? Why me? Why him?_

This time, he told himself, he was going to do it right. No screw-ups, no one dying, just them solving a murder without any hitches. So he played pretend, even though the agony of _knowing_ nearly drove him insane from anxiety and sleepless nights.

“Yosuke?”

“Muh?” He blinked at Chie, who had flicked him on the forehead.

“Were you paying attention at _all?”_ She shook her head. “Yukiko said it’s cool if we went to the Amagi Inn for tonight. Wanna come with? Everyone else is going, even Nanako-chan.”

“I...” Did he even deserve to go, at this point? “I’ve got, uh, something I gotta do today—catching up on homework and studying.”

Teddie pouted. “But you _never_ study, Yosuke!”

“All the more reason why I should start now, yeah?” He gave his best attempt at a smile, but it felt deflated, like the rest of him. “Just go have fun without me, Ted. You see me all the time at home, anyways. And Nanako-chan needs someone near... uh... around her age to play with instead of just a bunch of teenagers, you know?”

The group blinked at him. Souji frowned and motioned for Yosuke to follow him out of the room. Yosuke reluctantly followed, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other pulling hard on his headphone cord.

“Are you okay?” Souji asked once they reached a quieter portion of the second floor hallway, where the decorations of the Culture Festival were already taken down.

Yosuke shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah, ‘course I am. Why?”

“It’s just...” Souji bit his bottom lip—Yosuke learned from past time lines that he only did that whenever he was seriously concerned—before looking Yosuke in the eyes. “You’ve looked like you’ve been struggling lately. Teddie says you sometimes stay up all night, and that you’ve been crying a lot.” He held up his hands when Yosuke tried to deny it. “I’ve seen the dark circles you try to hide, Yosuke, and I’ve noticed that you’ve stopped hanging out with me.” He took a step froward, and Yosuke’s breathing hitched when he noticed Souji reaching out to touch him. “Is there anything I—”

“Don’t!” Yosuke pushed the hand away and looked away. He could feel the pressing Souji’s pressing stare, and it made his skin prickle with hear. “Just, don’t,” he whispered, “don’t touch me, _please._ I’m fine, just... Go have fun with the others, okay?”

“Yosuke, I can’t just lea—”

_“Go.”_

This was not how their friendship was supposed to be. It was supposed to be eating steak croquettes together, watching each other’s back, talking late on the phone with each other every night, and everything else that came with being best friends. But every time the opportunity came up, Yosuke forced himself to reject Souji’s advances to hang out after he obtained Susano-O, out of fear of what _could_ happen (even though it never happened before, and, hell, Souji probably did not swing that way, so what was he even worried about). Souji’s hand fell back to his side and, with a curt nod, turned his back to Yosuke and walked back into classroom 2-2.

It was better this way. Maybe, if Yosuke kept his distance, fate would stop fucking them over.

A week and an enraged, exhausted, and not listening Leader later, Souji accidentally opened a chest in Heaven which Rise tried to warn them to not do, and he could still feel the blast of the Megidolaon when he woke up in a new time line, swallowing down the urge to break something at the memory of his partner shielding the low-on-health Yosuke.

*

_Standing at a crossroads two ways to go both ways are clueless no way to know_

*

Yosuke was never ready for it, be it a random Shadow encounter, a boss battle, or something else—death was still the same, and Souji always seemed to end with that destiny. He lost count of how many times he restarted because of Souji—because they were _all_ Souji. It was not fair that only Yosuke retained all of their memories without getting anything from it. However, Yosuke knew it was better this way. The less Souji had to carry, the better, since he already commanded an Investigation Team, participated in several clubs, and had too many friends to count to handle. If this was to be Yosuke’s burden, then so be it.

Still, that did not mean it did not suck.

Because it sucked _hard,_ not being able to say a single thing when Yosuke was so used to blurting out everything that came to mind. And if the time thing was not bad enough (and all of the memories that went along with every single time line), his festering feelings shoved to the back of his mind were starting to break loose. It did not help that Souji was quite possibly the most oblivious person on the goddamn _planet,_ seeing as Yosuke thought of his crush to be visible from the moon, and Souji often had a tendency of being _touchy._

Which is why when Yosuke just started to break down crying for the first time in a long time, Souji unexpectedly _hugging_ him (which never happened before from his recollection) made Yosuke gush about everything he could possibly think of.

“I’ve met you,” he mumbled into Souji’s shoulder, “over a hundred different times in a hundred different ways, and every time it just reinforces how much I _like_ you, and it fucking _hurts,_ I can’t...” He pulled himself away from Souji’s embrace, but his hands remained clutching Souji’s shoulders, as if he let go, he would lose Souji yet _again._ “I don’t know what to _do_ anymore,” he admitted, forcing a pathetic rendition of his grin on his tear-stained face. “I just can’t hide this, and I _know_ this is going to bite me in the ass later, but I just _can’t_ anymore, Souji, I _can’t,_ god, fuck, I’m so stupid, I’m so fucking sorry...”

“Yosuke?”

“I can’t protect you.” Yosuke finally released Souji from his death grip and instead clasped his own face, his nails digging into the skin. “Actually, I don’t know _how_ to protect you, and it’s killing me, it’s _killing_ me because I never want to see you die again, Souji, I can’t see you die again, don’t let me see you die ever again, please, _please...”_

“Yosuke—!”

He ran without even really thinking, his heart pounding in his ears as he did not stop once before reaching the electronics section in Junes. He tampered with fate, but before Souji could die, he was going to make the time line restart. His fingers outstretched to touch the screen—who cared if anyone saw, no one was going to remember afterward—but found himself yanked away from the television.

“Yosuke,” Souji breathed, eyes wide with alarm. “What... What was all that, before?”

How did Souji manage to catch up? Yosuke yanked his arm away. “I don’t really have time to talk about semantics, partner. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does! It does matter, please, just talk to m—”

With a shove, Yosuke knocked Souji into an electronic’s display case before diving into the television screen, barely catching the desperate _“Wait!”_ from his partner.

But people waited for no one, though, and Yosuke finally understood that as he summoned Susano-O.

*

_Save data?_

_> Yes >Does it even matter?_

*

Yosuke woke up and screamed so loud into his pillow that his parents came up into his room without knocking, asking what was wrong. They could not get a straight answer out of him, only loud sobbing and a repeated question of, “Why?” His parents allowed him to stay home and skip work that day—the first time since middle school. Chie texted him several times, asking him if he was okay, and if he wanted her to bring the homework assignment King Moron gave out. She briefly mentioned something about Souji, and how “you should get to know him, Yosuke, he’s super chill.” Even though he did not respond, she came by his house anyhow and dropped the assignment off with his parents.

When he received the homework, a small folded piece of paper fell from the packet and landed on his lap.

_“Are you okay? Txt me when u get this.”_

With a slow inhale, he texted Chie a simple, _"Im fine,"_ and, for a brief moment, he almost believed himself.

*

_> Maybe that’s the point_

*

Indulgence, his father said after Yosuke ate too much candy on his tenth birthday, was something someone needed to outgrow, since it interfered with life itself. But, over the course of too many times, Yosuke learned that a little bit of indulgence kept people sane. So, when he was sprawled out on his back once again, staring at the yellow fog where the blue sky _should_ have been overhead, bruises throbbing from being utterly beaten by his partner, he figured maybe, just once, he could do something for himself. Was it selfish? Maybe. At that point, though, Yosuke could no longer care. One hundred and one re-dos of the same thing did shit to people.

“Y’know,” he finally forced out after a long while, “I heard somewhere that being on a riverbank tends to make people more honest. I feel like I could tell you anything now, and you’d take it seriously.”

Souji chuckled. “How much anime have you been watching instead of studying?”

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“So that’s an ‘all of them,’ then, huh?”

Yosuke nudged Souji in the side, who just laughed harder.

“But, seriously,” he said before turning his head towards Souji, “I really, really need to tell you something important, partner. About me. About... this, or us, or however you want to call it. Actually, it’s probably just _all_ me, and I’m reading too deep into things, and now I’m rambling—”

“Yosuke.” Souji sat up and clasped a hand onto Yosuke’s shoulder. “Breathe.”

“Right, yeah, I’m trying.” Yosuke swallowed a gulp of air before wiping his palms onto his grass-stained uniform pants. He still had a window of opportunity to abort the entire thing, and say something different, but things were going incredibly well—they managed to rescue Nanako, who currently resided in the hospital, and Namatame, the bastard, was going to go to jail for it. It was the farthest Yosuke ever got, and no one, aside from the murder victims, had yet to die. He deserved _something._ But, at the same time, his innards were eating themselves as he nervously laughed. How come everything up to the current moment seemed so _easy_ compared to this? Even though he faced his friends’ deaths numerous times and that was nothing against stupid feelings, he still could barely muster courage to say anything coherent.

“I have a confession,” he said, refusing to meet Souji in the eye.

“I am listening.”

“That’s it. That’s the entire thing. A confession.” Yosuke wrapped his headphone’s cord around his fingers until they turned white from pressure.

Souji’s brow furrowed as he glanced up, as if trying to process the statement. “I’m sorry, I think you totally lost me, what are you trying to—?”

Hesitation gone, Yosuke seized the fleeting moment of courage that suddenly swelled up inside him and grabbed Souji by the popped collar, pulling him down into a quick, difficult kiss. Their teeth clicked together, and their noses bumped, making Yosuke push Souji away immediately afterward. A moment of silence passed, with Yosuke staring pointedly in the opposite direction. What did Souji look like? Was he shocked? Disgusted? Amused? Anything at all? Did that honestly just happen? He felt his ears burn with embarrassment—middle school girlfriends notwithstanding, that was technically his first _real_ kiss.

“Yosuke?”

God, what he would give to turn time back right then, if he were not already so far in solving the case for a change. Yosuke’s shoulders stiffened and, after psyching himself for disappointment, turned back to Souji. “Y-yeah?”

Oddly, Souji was the one refusing to meet Yosuke’s eyes. His skin even appeared a tint flushed. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said finally, licking his lips.

“I know, it was stupid, I’m sorry, it won’t happen aga—”

This time, Souji grabbed Yosuke by the hem of his jacket and pulled him into a better, less awkward kiss that lasted longer. If the fog were not around, Yosuke would have freaked out about people seeing, but the lack of visibility allowed him to relax for a moment before realizing, _holy shit,_ Souji was _kissing him back._

“Dude,” he asked once Souji pulled away, “are you _serious?”_

“Aren’t you?” Souji’s pressing stare made the goosebumps rise on Yosuke’s skin.

“I mean, I didn’t think you’d, uh, feel the same way. Like, at all. I thought you and Ebihara were dating, and... Wait, you’re serious.”

“We just determined that.” Souji started grinning.

“So I’m _not_ hallucinating, dreaming, or suffering from a concussion right now?”

“No,” his partner replied with a smile as he took hold of Yosuke’s hand, “you’re not.”

For the first time in the unending _eternity_ of trying to get it right, Yosuke, fully aware of what this meant, began laughing so hard he nearly threw up. Souji looked puzzled, but it did not matter, because it was _happening—they_ were happening, and, most importantly, it was real. In all the time he was arguing semantics of what he should have, could have, and would have, he finally took a moment to finally do, and now, now he could take on forever.

So long as he had Souji by his side.

*

_family and friends and you_

*

Forever lasted a week, and ended on December 3rd, in a cold, dimly lit hallway of the ICU in Inaba’s Municipal Hospital.

Yosuke paced, awaiting some kind of news of what just happened. Souji was inside Nanako’s room upon the nurse’s request, and no one knew what was going on. Another nurse ran out of the room and down the hallway, clipboard in hand, frantically asking where Dojima-san’s room was located. The shouts and murmurs of other patients demanding for cures for the “deadly fog” disease echoed down the hall, disturbing the eerie silence that grasped the small Investigation Team. Not even Teddie, who usually bounced around as if he took an energy shot, said a word.

“The hell is goin’ on?” Kanji muttered, clenching and relaxing his his hands several times. “We saved her, didn’t we? So, why...?”

Not even Naoto, the brains of the group, could give a reasonable answer—she just stared straight ahead at the opposite wall, both hands resting on her knees. Chie kept sniffing, but kept her face hidden. Yosuke suspected that she was crying, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not over yet,” he said, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Nanako-chan’s tough. She wouldn’t just give up that easily.”

Chie did not look up. She only nodded before sniffing again.

Dojima, the battered uncle who got in a car accident not too long ago, with the assistance of the nurse, limped towards Nanako’s door. His face, contorted with pain, had hints of concern riddled on his worn features. “What’s going on?” he asked, approaching the group. “How’s Nanako?”

The nurse ushered Dojima into the room without delay, and the door slowly slid behind them, but Yosuke managed to catch an urgent, “Nanako? Nanako!” before it shut completely. Something in Yosuke’s stomach dropped, and he began wrapping the headphone cord around his fingers until it completely cut off circulation. Dojima was shouting now, almost desperately, and Yosuke heard the doctor’s muffled voice say something in a borderline monotone voice. Hands shaking, he could barely stand being in the dark for any longer, and barged into the room. The rest of the group followed him.

The doctor stared downward. Dojima, who usually exerted an air of authority, was on his knees and rendered speechless. Souji, who always appeared level-headed, gripped the little, immobile hand with both of his own, and faintly trembled.

The monitor next to the bedside continued to drone on in the eerie flat-line sound.

*

_blind you’ve been blind two people so_

*

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

It was all he could say now.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m...”

What more could he do? Clouded with rage, he convinced Souji to push Namatame into the TV, and Nanako remained dead. Revenge could not bring her back. And, though it felt good in the moment, Yosuke immediately regretted it, and could no longer look at his partner in the eye. They made it once, finally, and Yosuke screwed it up, again. What did he do this time? Where did he go wrong? He needed to go back. But he did not want to lose Souji. Then again, given Souji’s sudden distant self, it might have been _better_ for Yosuke to rewrite time and pretend it never happened.

He wiped his face with his sleeve and stared at the ceiling of his own room before sitting up. The old television set sat across from him in the dark. He needed to fix what he did wrong. Just one more time. This time, he promised to himself and Souji, he would get it right. No one else would die. And Yosuke would no longer indulge.

The TV screen rippled when he pressed against the glass. He sniffed once more before sticking his whole arm through.

“I’m...”

_...an idiot._

*

_ERROR ERROR ERROR ER|_

*

Rewind, repeat, and he should have seen the grand finale sooner.

Something hindered his time-traveling abilities—be it the fog, or his emotional state, he could only leap back to November 27th, or, in other words, the day of his confession. He purposely avoided Souji for the day by skipping school entirely, feigning illness. His body felt exhausted anyhow; he doubted he would have stayed awake during class. Maybe the lingering fog really was sucking the life out of everyone. Or maybe it was his downward spiral of depression that made him feel like no matter what he did, he was going to be a screw-up.

December 3rd happened once again, but, this time, Souji managed to get the emotionally-charged group under control before anything terrible came of it. Namatame was spared, and, through some miracle, Nanako, who previously flat-lined, came back to life somehow. All Yosuke had to do was play the bad guy for a moment, and Souji managed to do the rest himself. This is why Yosuke was important—a foil to the real hero, and making said-hero look good. If he got himself any more involved with his partner, then Yosuke’s wrong opinion would be taken more seriously by Souji, and things would go wrong.

As a result, Yosuke kept his distance as much as he could without it being too obvious.

Except.

“Yosuke.”

He flinched, his hands gripping the backs of his shoes as he was desperately trying to leave without getting caught. Then again, he could only play the avoidance game for so long—eventually, they would have had to go into the TV to chase down Adachi, who, as it was revealed, was the true murderer all along. And since Yosuke was the second-in-command, there was no way he could just skip out on something so huge. Composing a mask, he flashed a brief smile at his partner and closed his shoe locker. “What’s up?”

Souji bit his lip and glanced to the side. “Nothing, really. Unless there is something going on with _you.”_

“Other than school and the case being almost closed?” Yosuke shrugged. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

Ah, shit.

“Avoiding you? Am not. I’m just busy, is all.”

“Yosuke...”

“Listen, I gotta go—a part-timer called out sick because of the fog, and I really, really need to go in—you know how it is—so we can talk later, yeah?” Anything to get him away from Souji. That stupid concerned look on his partner’s face was enough to drive Yosuke insane. “If anything serious comes up, text me. Later!”

“Yeah,” Souji said flatly, hands shoved in his pockets, “I will. Later.”

Yosuke did not realize he stopped breathing until he was finally past the school gates. When he inhaled, the needles of guilt wedged deeper into his lungs, and he hoped the truth was not too obvious.

*

This was the one of the very few times when he did not have Susano-O. Seeing Jiraiya still threw him for the loop; every time he started to summon him, he slipped out a, “Su—!” before catching and correcting himself. As if that was not disorienting enough, the haphazard mesh that was Magatsu Inaba, with twisted street signs, crumbled buildings, and tattered police tape stretched over slabs of what used to be pavement. Every few feet or so, Adachi’s irritating voice chided at them, saying stuff like _“You’re just playing into my hand”_ or _“shouldn’t you kids be studying?,”_ as if that would deter them.

“He can’t be far now,” Rise said confidently. “From my data, the road ends soon.”

The pathway narrowed into the distance before hitting a large clearing. Adachi would be there. Yosuke instinctively gripped his kunai.

Finally, at long last, the hell would be over.

He managed to grin at Souji, who just blinked at him, eyebrows furrowed. Yosuke immediately looked away, not wanting those scrutinizing eyes on him anymore.

Souji was no longer the same partner Yosuke had in any other time line.

“What is going _on_ between you two?” Chie asked as Yosuke fell behind Souji and Teddie. “It’s like you two won’t even _talk_ to each other anymore.”

“It’s nothing,” he replied weakly, which ended getting a kick to the shin. “Ow! What the hell?”

“Bullshit, it’s nothing.” She lowered her voice, but the anger still stung with her words. “He’s been really distant with _all_ of us lately, and the other day, when me and Yukiko took him with us to go shopping, I brought up your name, and he just clammed up! What did you _do?”_

“What did _I_ do? Why is it _my_ fault?”

“Because he’s too nice to screw up his friendship with his _best friend,”_ Chie shot back as she finished up another TaP. “Listen, it’s super awkward when you two won’t even look at each other, let alone talk or sit next to each other like you used to. Promise me something, will you?”

“I’m not really good at keeping promises,” he muttered, but she kept speaking as if he did not say a word.

“Promise me that after this, you’ll make up with him.”

He blinked at her before slipping on his headphones. The clearing was coming up, and a figure stood with his back turned, staring into the abyss of black and red. “You make it sound like we’re dating,” he replied, and Chie rolled her eyes.

“As if you aren’t already.”

“Wh—?!” His shout died in his throat upon the clapping from the slouched  
figure in the center of the edge of the earth.

Without turning around, Adachi cackled, “You followed me here—you _actually_ followed me down, huh? I don’t know why. This place is just another ditch of despair. What, you kids were too bored to do anything productive, like get a girlfriend, apply to college, or something like that? Why do you just keep getting in the way?” He turned around, face contorted between laughter and rage—Yosuke did not think such facial expressions were possible—before pointing a gun at the group. His forefinger wrapped around the trigger.

“What,” he said with a snarl as his finger slowly tightened, “makes you think you could _possibly_ understand?”

*

_SAVE DA—?_

*

How did he not figure it out sooner?

Of course, he was not the smartest person in the world, and his test scores alone were proof of this, but this, this took his stupidity up to the next level. He deserved a medal. Fortunately, Adachi kindly provided him with one, only it was embedded in his chest, and probably bounced around his rib cage, which medals were not supposed to do. The headphones fell off first, clattering almost in slow motion as Yosuke felt the wind rush by his hair. The kunai slipped from his fingertips next, and Jiraiya glitched in mid-air, only to completely vanish once Yosuke’s back hit the hard cement.

Chie was right. It was not Souji’s fault, and therefore it was not Souji’s burden, but Yosuke kept making it about Souji any time he could. Souji this, Souji that—the reason behind all the time lines were because of Souji, or so he believed. And each ended with Yosuke leaping back to make it right for  
Souji, when all along, it was all about _Yosuke._

It was _his_ fault. It was _his_ burden.

If Souji were to be relieved of his burden to die, Yosuke needed to die for him.

The reason why he kept screwing up every time was because Yosuke was too stupid to realize it.

But, here at the end with lights sparkling in front of his eyes, it finally made sense.

“Yos—?”

Words were drowned out by an ear-splitting shout, followed by what sounded like a comet connecting to the Earth, which was undoubtedly Chie’s Fist of God. The light dramatically flashing in the corner of his eye added more evidence for the thought. He coughed, and his lungs burned with pain worse than stepping on Ted’s LEGOs or Chie’s ball-crippling kicks. It hurt to even breathe. Each action felt impossible, and the fact that he could even keep his eyes open was a miracle.

“Yosuke,” Souji pawed at him frantically, his glasses lopsided and his face bruised. When did Souji get hurt? Why wasn’t Yosuke there to stop it? Souji had a nice face, but purple and blue were definitely not his colors. Maybe white would look nice on him. White and black, and perhaps teal, but blue and purple were just out of the question. “Don’t talk, you’re gonna be okay, okay? I’ve got you. So, please, just... just stay awake.”

He was talking? Yosuke wanted to sleep.

“I know you do, but you gotta—just hang on, okay, I’m gonna—damn it, why isn’t this working?!”

Was Souji angry?

“N-no, I’m not angry, I’m just—Teddie, defend! I’m just...” His hair was matted with sweat, and his uniform was torn. “Just _stop talking.”_ The faint blue light surrounding Souji looked bright again for a brief moment, and another shape rippled in and out of existence, but nothing changed. Yosuke felt numb. “Please, _please_ work, _work—”_

Souji was no magician. He could not make tricks happen, other than silly ones to show Nanako.

“Yosuke—”

It was okay. Souji was just a fool. A big, nerdy, cat-loving fool who made stupid cleaning puns and cooked amazing meals and was essentially Mr. Perfect, but still a fool. It needed to be that way, because Yosuke was the magician instead. A man behind the actions, a cohort to fate’s schemes, the one with all the tricks behind his partner’s magic, and Souji needed to remain that oblivious fool, no wiser.

“Stay awake—no, come on, Yos—!”

 _No matter what,_ Yosuke thought dimly as the world around him became faint static, _and no matter how much time has passed._

*

The car slowed to a stop. To the right, the blonde woman sat still, with her eyes closed and book clasped in her arms. The older, creepier man rested his chin on his hands, eyebrows knit together with thought. The tarot cards were spread out on the table, face up. The wine poured in the provided glasses remained untouched. No one spoke for what felt like ages, and the tension built up slowly, much like the fog as it grew thicker outside the car’s windows.

“The Magician,” the man, Igor, finally said, “the Lovers, the Wheel of Fortune, and Death. It seems that your path has taken a turn for the... _unfortunate,_ to say the least.”

Silence settled in once again. Igor cleared his throat before resuming.

“We made a contract saying that you would accept all responsibility for the choices you make, and this was one of those choices. We cannot redo what has already been done without disturbing the fabrication of dreams and reality itself. To do so would be nearly impossible.” Igor reached for the glass of wine and took a sip. “We would have to create an entirely new reality and erase everything that has happened, with the added risk of some... unwanted changes.”

The steel gray eyes did not falter in their steady, determined gaze. Igor placed aside the glass and swiped a hand over the cards, immediately reforming the deck back to its original state.

“There was one who did alter time.” Igor flicked his finger, and the cards began to shuffle. “The results were... Well. I cannot give out such information, so I will not say anymore. However, you _must_ accept _everything_ that will happen as a result of this alteration. Is that perfectly clear?”

One firm nod.

“Very well. As a result of this,” Igor placed the deck onto the table, “you will not remember anything of this adventure, and will start back from the beginning. In addition,” he flipped over a card—The Lovers, reversed, “the lover you previously had will forever be locked away. That romance will never be accessed again, and you two will never remember it.” The eyes blinked, a mouth opened to protest, but Igor’s voice began to echo, “No matter what you do—” the car began to move again, only backwards, and faster “—no matter what you say—” all the purples in the car mingled together, and it became impossible to even breathe, let alone think, “—and no matter what choices you will make, that boy will forever, until the end of time, just be out of your grasp.”

And the world turned white.

*

_...you’re special to me, you know?_

*  
“S-someone...”

Of course he would get stuck in a trash can. Next time, he was going to walk, because the number of times the stupid bike chain slipped off was starting to reach the one-hundred mark. Then again, nothing quite beat the rush of speeding downhill, but the horrid smell of rotting banana peels and God knew _what_ else was a strong deterrent. He rolled around for a few moments, and could hear the other students laughing at him as they passed him by. What exactly did he do to deserve this? After an agonizingly long time, someone reached around his waist and, with a firm pull, helped him out of the trash can.

“Oh my god, dude,” Yosuke said with a laugh, “you’re my savior of the day.”  
“It is no problem,” the person replied. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Compared to Chie’s kicks, this is _nothing._ Oh, uh, Chie’s the one who sits next to you. I mean, you’re the transfer student, right? I sit behind you. Name’s Hanamura Yosuke. Nice to meet you!” He extended his hand. Maybe this guy would be like him, in that they were both dragged from the high life of the city all the way back to the sticks. They could be best friends and poke fun at weird things, like Souzai Daigaku’s meat specials. Something about that thought sounded highly appealing.

“Narukami Yu,” the transfer student replied, clasping Yosuke’s hand awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, too. We are going to be late for class if we keep chatting, though...”

But Yosuke could no longer hear him. Something _heavy_ tugged at his chest, dragging his heart into his stomach. A strange sweat broke out on his forehead, and the shock of it all made him step back, but the grip on Yu’s hand never gave way. Yu stared at him, confused, as Yosuke tried to recover from the sudden moment of nostalgia overwhelming him. He laughed nervously and released Yu’s hand before tugging at his headphone cord.

“Hah... Sorry ‘bout that,” he said as he bent down to pick up his bicycle. “I just had the _weirdest_ deja vu moment right there. It’s like I’ve done this before or something, I don’t know.” He smiled at Yu, who blinked at him. “Now that I think about it, you _do_ look familiar, but... Maybe we just met in the city?”

“Maybe,” Yu replied. “I get this feeling that I’ve met you before, too.”

“Funny how the brain does that, huh?” Yosuke locked up his bicycle on the bike rack before shuffling his way towards the school. “Like, we might’ve just met once, but something in our minds remembers each other from _waaaay_ back in the past.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Yu said as he took off his shoes and stuffed them in his locker, “but maybe.”

“Who knows? Oh, hey, by the way, did you wanna get food with me later as thanks for saving me back there? I could show you around Inaba, too, if you want. I’ll even pay, so you don’t got to worry about that. What do you say?” Before Yu could reply, the class bell rang, and Yosuke jumped. “Shit, already? I swear we had at least five more minutes or something...”

Yu grabbed his bag off the floor and briskly walked up the stairs. “We better get in before Morooka accuses us of skipping class.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Yosuke muttered as he followed Yu up the stairs and down the second floor hallway before hurrying to the door labeled 2-2. He grabbed the door handle, grinning sheepishly at his newly-acquired friend before saying, “I guess time really waits for no one, huh?”


End file.
